


More An Antique Roman Than A Dane

by AkiRah



Category: Brick (2005)
Genre: "Kasprzyk took my phone", Brain's secret crush, Character Study, Literary Analysis as a plot point, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:57:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brain's phone goes off while Mrs. Kasprzyk's English class is studying Hamlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More An Antique Roman Than A Dane

“...Horatio, I am dead. Thou livest. Report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied.” The kid behind me reads Hamlet’s lines, trying badly to affect an almost English accent. There’s no character, no flavor to the words but it’s Accelerated English and no one here cares. 

“In plain English?” Mrs. Kasprzyk asks the class. She picks the girl to my left and I drop my eyes to my notebook to pretend I’m taking notes. 

_Vrrrrrr_

That’s my pocket. The vibrations shoot into my thigh and would be almost pleasant if they weren’t so goddamn out of place. I try and ignore them but the buzzing persists and I can feel sixty-two eyes hone in on my pocket. The only pair that matters is Kasprzyk’s and they’re narrowed with displeasure. 

“Emergency?” she asks, tone unamused and flat. 

“No,” I reach up for my glasses. 

Kasprzyk moves down the aisle like the reaper her-goddamn-self and holds one hand out for the phone. “I believe I explained my policy on cellphones at the beginning of the semester.” 

I slide mom’s phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen. An unfamiliar number, Brendan. It has to be Brendan. Panic ices my veins as I drop the phone into Kasperzyk’s palm and _pray_ that I wasn’t lying when I told her it wasn’t an emergency. 

A titter of laughter starts and is immediately silenced by Kasprzyk’s glower. She doesn’t tolerate laughing at misfortune. She doesn’t single students out for ridicule. The ridicule happens anyway but never in class. 

“I believe it’s your turn anyway.” Her finger taps the open page of my copy of _Hamlet._

“Y-yeah.” I clear my throat and tripp over the line as I start. “N-never believe it. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. Here’s yet some liquor left.” 

“In English?” Her eyes are still fixed on me. I’m not getting out so easy. 

“He’s offering to kill himself,” I fidget with my glasses and try not to look at her hand where my phone’s gone still. _Brendan._ “Hamlet’s his best friend, he can’t imagine life without him, so he’s planning to commit suicide so they’re not apart.” I flick my gaze up. Kasprzyk’s still looking at me so I swallow and keep talking. “The, uh, the interesting part about that is that at this point, er, historically, suicide was a mortal sin and so what he’s _actually_ saying is that he’d rather risk hell, a very real thing throughout the entire play, than have a chance at heaven without Hamlet.” _Please, Brendan, just have been checking in to see if I found Dode. Please don’t need me. Please be Okay._

“Dude,” a jock, one of Brad Bramish’s lapdogs, snorts behind me. “That’s gay as--er--” he stops talking, frozen in place as surely as if Kasprzyk was medusa. “I--that--”

“Not an uncommon interpretation,” Kasprzyk says evenly. “The possible romance between Horatio and Hamlet adds a new level of drama to the play, as we see Horatio act as the one person _selflessly_ assisting another. He goes along with Hamlet’s schemes, advising caution but eternally supportive _despite_ the narrative addressing him as a skeptic.” Kasprzyk moves back down the aisles to her desk. “Regardless of reading romantic intention into the text, what we see through Horatio is _love_ , and it sets him apart from the characters of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern who profess to be Hamlet’s friends but ultimately betray him.” 

I shift in my seat and for a moment it’s almost like the room is a stage and I’m under the hot white light. No one is looking at me. I’m the only one drawing these comparisons and I’m only drawing them because we’re in a spot. 

No. Not _we_. _Brendan_ and _Emily_ are in a spot. Maybe just Emily, though Brendan is set on putting himself in one. There is no _we_. 

I’m his friend. His best friend. Been his best friend. Will be his best friend. 

_Good to op for me again?_

_The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever._

Just anxiety and the paranoid fear that suddenly everyone can read minds. 

The bell interrupts further conversation about Horatio’s penchant for pining and I slide my books into my case. “Mrs. Kasprzyk?” I ask, knowing the answer. 

She settles back at her desk and drops my phone into a drawer. “You may have it after school,” she looks back down at her papers, “as usual.” 

Brendan’s off campus, chasing scraps of news and looking for a way to get close to whomever set up whatever trap Em walked into. Engaged in his own mad revenge plans but with less incest and I _hope_ fewer bodies. Fewer ghosts. 

I squeeze the handle of my briefcase tighter. Horatio was in love with Hamlet. Gives a whole new twist to the tale and I can see where they’re coming from. Hamlet loved Horatio, in his own way. Selfish and mad and unpredictable and stubborn but the love was there. Is there.

They can’t know. No one knows. Least of all Brendan.


End file.
